Of ambush, and the ambush'd band arise,
And Madoc is their prisoner.
In vain thou leadest on the late pursuit !
In vain, Cadwallon, hath thy love alarm'd
Caught the first sound of evil! They pour out
Tumultuous from the vale, a half-arm'd troop;
Each with such weapons as his hasty hand
Can seize, they rush to battle. Gallant men,
Your valour boots not! It avails not now,
With such fierce onset that ye charge the foe,
And drive with such full force the weapon home!
They while ye slaughter them, impede pursuit,
And far away, meantime, their comrades bear
The captive Prince. In vain his noble heart
Swells now with wild and suffocating rage;
In vain he struggles:.. they have bound his limbs
With the tough osier, and his struggles now
But bind more close and cuttingly the band.
They hasten on; and while they bear the prize,
Leaving their ill-doomed fellows in the fight
To check pursuit, foremost afar of all,
With unabating strength by joy inspired,
Ocellopan to Aztlan bears the child.
GOOD tidings travel fast... The chief is seen ;
He hastens on; he holds the child on high;
He shouts aloud. Through Aztlan spreads the news;
Each to his neighbour tells the happy tale, . .
Joy,..joy to Aztlan! the blood-shedder comes!
Tlaloc has given his victim.
They from the gate swarm out to welcome thee,
Warriors, and men grown grey, and youths and maids,
Exulting, forth they crowd. The mothers throng
To view thee, and, while thinking of thy doom,
They clasp their own dear infants to the breast
With deeper love, delighted think that thou
Shalt suffer for them. He, poor child, admires
The strange array! with wonder he beholds
Their olive limbs, half bare, their plumey crowns,
And gazes round and round, where all was new,
Forgetful of his fears. But when the Priest
Approach'd to take him from the Warrior's arms,
Then Hoel scream'd, and from that hideous man
Averting, to Ocellopan he turn'd,
And would have clung to him, so dreadful late,
Stern as he was, and terrible of eye,
Less dreadful than the Priest, whose dark aspect
Which nature with her harshest characters
Had featured, art made worse. His cowl was white;
His untrimm'd hair, a long and loathsome mass,
With cotton cords intwisted, clung with gum,
And matted with the blood, which every morn,
He from his temples drew before the God,
In sacrifice; bare were his arms, and smear'd
Black. But his countenance a stronger dread
Than all the horrors of that outward garb,
Struck with quick instinct to young Hoel's heart;
It was a face, whose settled sullenness
No gentle feeling ever had disturb'd;
Which, when he probed a victim's living breast,
Retained its hard composure.
Who took the son of Llaian, heeding not
His cries and screams, and arms in suppliant guise,
Stretch'd out to all around, and strugglings vain.
He to the Temple of the Water-God
Convey'd his victim. By the threshold, there
The ministering Virgins stood, a comely band
Of high-born damsels, to the temple rites
By pious parents vow'd. Gladly to them
The little Hoel leapt; their gentle looks
No fear excited; and he gazed around,
Pleased and surprised, unconscious to what end
These things were tending. O'er the rush-strewn floor
They to the azure Idol led the boy,
Now not reluctant, and they raised the hymn.
God of the Waters! at whose will the streams Flow in their wonted channel, and diffuse Their plenty round, the blood and life of earth;
At whose command they swell, and o'er their banks Burst with resistless ruin, making vain
The toils and hopes of man, behold this child!
O strong to bless, and mighty to destroy,
Tlaloc! behold thy victim! so mayest thou
Restrain the peaceful streams within their banks,
And bless the labours of the husbandman.
God of the Mountains! at whose will the clouds
Cluster around the heights; who sendest them
To shed their fertilizing showers, and raise
The drooping herb, and o'er the thirsty vale
Spread their green freshness; at whose voice the hills
Grow black with storms; whose wrath the thunder
speaks,
Whose bow of anger shoots the lightning shafts,
To blast the works of man ;.. behold this child!
O strong to bless, and mighty to destroy,
Tlaloc! behold thy victim! so mayest thou
Lay by the fiery arrows of thy rage,
And bid the genial rains and dews descend.
O thou, Companion of the powerful God, Companion and Beloved!.. when he treads The mountain-top, whose breath diffuses round The sweets of summer; when he rides the waves, Whose presence is the sunshine and the calm, .. Aiauh, O green-robed Goddess, see this child! Behold thy victim! so mayest thou appease The sterner mind of Tlaloc when he frowns, And Aztlan flourish in thy fostering smile. Young Spirits! ye whom Aztlan's piety
Hath given to Tlaloc, to enjoy with him,
For aye, the cool delights of Tlalocan,..
Young Spirits of the happy; who have left
Your Heaven to-day, unseen assistants here,..
Behold your comrade! see the chosen child,
Who through the lonely cave of death must pass,
Like you, to join you in eternal joy.
Now from the rush-strewn temple they depart.
They place their smiling victim in a car,
Upon whose sides of pearly shell there play'd,
Shading and shifting still, the rainbow light.
On virgin shoulders is he borne aloft,
With dance before, and song and music round;
And thus they seek, in festival array,
The water-side. There lies the sacred bark,
All gay with gold, and garlanded with flowers:
The virgins with the joyous boy embark;
Ten boatmen urge them on; the Priests behind
Follow, and all the long solemnity.
The lake is overspread with boats; the sun Shines on the gilded prows, the feathery crowns, The sparkling waves. Green islets float along, Where high-born damsels, under jasmin bowers, Raise the sweet voice, to which the echoing oars, In modulated motion, rise and fall.
The moving multitude along the shore
Flows like a stream; bright shines the unclouded sky;
Heaven, earth, and waters wear one face of joy.
Young Hoel with delight.beholds the pomp ;
His heart throbs joyfully; and if he thinks
Upon his mother now, 't is but to think
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